The most recent conscription, or mandatory national service, followed the time when Hitler and his mates in the National Socialist German Workers’ Party were causing their bother all over the European mainland. In response, the secretary of state for war, Leslie Hore-Belisha, persuaded Neville Chamberlain’s government to introduce conscription on 27 April 1939, which went on to include all males between the ages of 18 and 41.
Many were exempt from military service because they were medically unfit or worked in key industries such as farming, medicine, baking or engineering. Some were later called up to work in the mining industries from 1943-48, lads known as ‘Bevin Boys’ after the then minister for war, Ernest Bevin.
Wartime conscription for women
In December of 1941, unmarried women and childless widows between the ages of 20 and 30 (later extended to 19-43) were also liable to be called up, to work either in key industries such as munitions, farming and forestry, or in one of the auxiliary services. The 650,000 conscripted women who opted for the latter were not allowed to work in combat units but worked as nurses, orderlies, drivers (buses, ambulances, fire engines and chauffeurs) and secretaries. Women who worked as chauffeurs or wagon drivers in the RAF were very lucky for they had a whole airfield to practice their parking.
Even though these positions were not directly in conflict with the enemy, they were still very much in danger from enemy attack from the air, particularly the many women who delivered unarmed aircraft to their respective squadrons and the many very brave women who volunteered to work behind enemy lines in the European resistance.
National service: better for some than for others
Men up to the age of 60 were also required to do some form of national service, such as in police and civil defence forces, to fill the gap left by younger men who had been conscripted into combat positions.
Conscientious objectors who refused to take up arms would be allowed to put their case to a generally unsympathetic tribunal who would decide on what the future held for them. A Golcar lad who goes by the fine name of Cyril Pearce, an honorary research fellow at the school of history, University of Leeds, has written a book called Comrades in Conscience on WW1 conscientious objectors in Huddersfield, which had the reputation at the time of being ‘a hotbed of pacifism’.
National service continued in the UK until 1960. I missed it by approximately three years, the last conscripted soldier having left service in 1963. Many found the life ideal for them and volunteered for several more years. My cousin David is an excellent example: he was conscripted but went on to volunteer and had a very successful career in the RAF and eventually became a wing commander.
Basic training (key lesson: don’t volunteer)
Basic training during the times of national service for the standard army squaddie (from the old northern England dialect word for a ‘loutish fellow, a country bumpkin or a big stout chap’ in turn from the Scandinavian/Norwegian word sydde with the same meaning), would usually last from eight to 13 weeks depending on the unit the individual had been assigned to and the time they were called up. This would consist of someone shouting something at someone, and then the individual would be placed in a unit with machines that whizzed round very quickly or involved a very loud bang, which in turn may have rendered the individual deaf as a post.
In the years following WW2, there was less for the squaddie to keep him occupied and out of mischief therefore he may have found himself being told to paint stones, peel potatoes, scrub barrack room floors or toilets with a toothbrush, (someone else’s of course), clear out after the regimental goat or the commanding officer’s pet pigs, or march up to the top of the hill and march down again. But with the right frame of mind, the squaddie could have the time of their lives and of course learn respect and discipline. They could also have a trade following their demob/retirement and equally importantly know the correct way to fly our national flag.
Another invaluable lesson an experienced squaddie learned was to never volunteer for anything. An example could happen during morning parade/reveille (from the French for ‘wake up’) when the sergeant would ask for a volunteer with a musical interest to step forward. The inexperienced squaddie who was fed up with painting stones or marching to the top of the hill would possibly have enthusiastically stepped forward hoping that he would be asked to play for a visiting dignitary – only to discover he would soon be shifting a piano.
A missed vocation in the Household Cavalry
As is my wont, I’ve tried to be light-hearted in my ramblings, but if it wasn’t for the very brave men and women of our armed forces, we would be speaking German, Spanish or French by now. During my adolescence I was very glad that conscription passed me by, as I think I would have hated the discipline, though the British military are very skilled in turning an idiot into a civilised member of society.
Still, if I’d known at the time of my distant cousin major general Sir Norcliffe Norcliffe of the 18th light dragoons (Hussars), I would possibly have tried to emulate him in a very tiny way; particularly if I’d had an opportunity to drive a tank, or even better be a member of the Household Cavalry with a horse and all that shiny metal and spit and polish, guarding the king and growling at the general public while I was on guard sat on my big black horse.
During the time when the Household Cavalry are on operations, their duties may include armed reconnaissance operating the excellent Scimitar or the new Ajax light tanks. All this is fantasy, of course, for I would have been retired from a British fighting unit 30 or 40 years before the Scimitar was designed, but we can dream, can’t we? I probably wouldn’t be able to get my knackered old body into any tank now, and if I could, I would be useless.
This is a Daimler Ferret scout car. These were four-wheel drive reconnaissance vehicles, variants of which were used during and for many years after WW2, whereas I would have preferred to drive a bigger and badder tracked vehicle like the ones mentioned earlier. This particular one was among a collection of vehicles that a hotel owner in Italy was very proud to show us during a biking tour in 2008. it is being closely examined by my two biking mates Tony and Geoff who are sadly no longer with us, but I think it shows that military vehicles were not built for comfort nor ease of access.
